


A Quick Guide to Stag Party Planning

by ConceptaDecency



Series: A Visit to Earth, 2378 [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: The O'Briens explain stag parties to Garak. Things get heated when Julian has to un-explain.





	A Quick Guide to Stag Party Planning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eilu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eilu/gifts).



> A stag, or stag party, is also known as a bachelor party in North America. (The one for women is called a hen.)
> 
> This was inspired by a conversation with eilu in the comments for my story [ Packing for Earth ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376558/chapters/33192585). I'd been hoping to write the dinner party at the O'Briens' but wasn't sure what the topic would be. Eilu is full of good ideas. 
> 
> I've taken some things a la carte from tinsnip's [ Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479), such as the _ajan_ , the pouch where Cardassians keep their reproductive organs, but I've also used a few of my own terms, which are just filthier words for cock and anus, from my story [ Good, Giving, and Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035614). I'm sure you can figure out which is which from context.

The dinner plates had long been consigned to the replicator. The smaller plates, displaying remnants of blackberry and rhubarb crumble, had been pushed, along with cups containing dregs of tea and coffee, to the centre of the O’Briens’ large family dinner table. Miles and Julian were seated across from each other at one end with large glasses of _melar_ , a Cardassian digestif. Though it was night, Keiko and Garak were who-knows-where in the back garden, probably deep in discussion about one of Keiko’s plants. Molly was in her bedroom doing homework, and the pyjamaed bottom half of Yoshi, sprawled over his colouring-in in the sitting room, could just be seen through the doorway.

“Okay, the wedding is on Cardassia, but the important question is, where’s the stag?”

Julian swirled his _melar_ a bit. 

“I don’t know, Miles. I hadn’t really thought about it. I might not even have one.”

“You have to have one, Julian! It’s tradition!”

“One of what?” Keiko and Garak had evidently had enough of the damp San Francisco night and were emerging from the back door, clippings and leaves of various types each in one hand, empty _melar_ glasses in the other.

“A stag. Julian says he might not have one.”

“Julian, you have to have a stag,” protested Keiko, refilling Garak’s glass and then her own. “It’s tradition.”

“Thank you, Doctor O’Brien,” said Garak, saluting Keiko with his drink. Now that Miles was teaching at Starfleet Academy, he was Professor O’Brien, so to prevent confusion Keiko was Doctor O’Brien, despite her protests that Garak should call her Keiko. “And what is a stag?”

“It’s a sort of party that a man has with his closest friends before he gets married,” Julian explained. “If possible they usually go away for a night or two.”

“I see. And what does this party involve that it can last up to two nights?” Garak's voice was all feigned innocence.

“Well, there’s usually some drinking involved.”

“Usually more than that,” chuckled Miles.

“Miles, tiny ears.” Keiko nodded towards the little feet in the doorway, which had stopped kicking idly.

“Yoshi, go clean your teeth,” Miles yelled into the next room.

“Five minutes, Dad!”

“Now, son.”

“Awwwwww. Can Julian help me?”

“No, son. Julian’s busy with the adults.”

“It’s fine, Miles. I’ll go.” Julian got up from the table and put one hand on Garak’s forearm. “Don’t believe everything they tell you about stags. They can be quite civilised.”

***

Later that night, at the hotel, Elim stood in the bathroom door in his robe, arms crossed.

“You’re not really going through with this ‘stag’, are you?”

Julian was cleaning his teeth. He met Elim’s eyes in the mirror and removed the sonic cleaner from his mouth.

“Yes, probably. It’s tradition.” He placed the cleaner back in his mouth and ran it over his molars.

“Doctor and Professor O’Brien explained this tradition to me while you were reading to the child. Apparently the idea is that it’s one last night - or nights - of freedom before committing oneself to matrimony.”

“Uh-huh,” said Julian around the cleaner, before taking it out of his mouth and putting it in its place on the counter. “That’s a bit of an old-fashioned interpretation, but essentially correct.”

“And how far does this freedom extend?”

“Well, that varies depending on the stag. Excuse me.” Julian brushed past Elim into the bedroom, where he retrieved his pyjamas from under the bedcovers. “Why, what did they tell you?”

Elim had turned around to continue the conversation, but as his current location offered an excellent view of Julian as he undressed, he stayed in the bathroom doorway.

“Professor O’Brien said that there’d been a sex worker concealed in a pastry at his.”

Julian had already removed his cream jumper and was beginning to unfasten the elaborate Cardassian-style clasps on the collar of his shirt, but he stopped and looked at Elim in surprise.

“A sex worker concealed in a...do you mean a stripper in a cake?”

“Those were the words used, yes. He also said, and I believe I’m quoting him correctly, ‘Julian will need two, because he likes men and women’.”

Julian laughed and undid the last of the clasps, exposing his left collarbone.

“Only two?” At Elim’s sour expression, he became more conciliatory. “Elim, there will be no strippers at my stag. We’ll just go for a few drinks and do some kayaking or something. Strippers aren’t really my thing.” The last sentence was muffled as he drew the shirt over his head.

“How can you be sure, Julian? Professor O’Brien claims they are not his ‘thing’ either, and yet one young lady still made an appearance.”

Julian was on the bed now, one foot already bare, his ankle resting on his knee as he pulled off the other sock.

“Miles’ stag was planned by Lieutenant Commander Data. He probably pulled up some Holodeck programmes of a typical Earth stag and went with the most obvious ideas. A stripper in a cake is a very old cliché. Miles is planning mine, and he knows me.” Julian, standing again in his bare feet, eased his trousers off.

Elim narrowed his eyes.

“He and Doctor O’Brien seemed quite adamant that a stripper was an essential part of a stag.”

“Do you think we had strippers at Captain Sisko’s stag?” Now wearing only black briefs, Julian turned to shake out the trousers. “Miles and Keiko were probably just winding you up - oh, hello,” said Julian, dropping the trousers to the floor. Unwilling to wait any longer, Elim had abandoned the doorway and was now practically on top of Julian, close enough to get a full noseful of the spicy scent he’d applied that day. The backs of Julian’s thighs pressed into the hard edge of the bed.

“I _am_ wound up, Julian.” Elim glanced at the growing bulge in Julian’s tight briefs. “And I can see you are too. Does the thought of one last night of freedom excite you?” He shoved Julian backwards onto the bed.

Julian’s brown eyes rounded, startled. Then a sly grin broke across his face.

“Maybe it does.” His hand crept under his waistband, but before he could stroke himself, Elim was straddling him, one hand closed tightly around the errant wrist.

“Ah ah ah.” He pushed Julian down onto his back, and catching the other wrist, pinned both of Julian’s hands to the mattress so that his arms were raised above his head. “You may be an immodest slut, but you’re mine. I won’t have you thinking of anyone else.”

“And how are you going to stop me, Elim? You can’t control my mind.” Julian’s voice was level. He stared coolly into Elim’s eyes and bucked his hips defiantly. Elim responded by clamping his bare thighs tightly around Julian’s waist. The edge of his short silk robe tickled Julian’s naked skin and the lips of his _ajan_ brushed his smooth, taut human belly.

“You’re dripping,” Julian taunted. “You’re as turned on by the idea of me...extending my freedom as I am.”

“Not at all, dear. I just want to teach you a lesson.”

“Ha! What can you teach me?”

“I may not be a tramp who gives up my _vrikar’l_ to anyone who so much as smiles at me, but I can teach you what a real man feels like.” Elim rubbed himself on Julian for emphasis. His genital lips parted a little, leaving a slick trail on the course, dark belly hair.

“Then stop... _painting_ me and do it.” Julian planted his feet on the bed, and this time using close to his full strength, bucked his hips again so that Elim was nearly dislodged.

“You really are an insatiable whore, Julian. No patience or respect for the act.” Having regained equilibrium, Elim leaned forward, pressing Julian’s forearms down with his own and bringing their faces together. The primal, animal smell of human desire wafted off Julian. “Don’t most humans at least want this before they get fucked?” Elim leaned in, his lips battling Julian’s for a moment before Julian acquiesced and allowed him in. At first his tongue sparred with Elim’s like it was fighting off an intruder, but finally he closed his eyes and curved his neck back, emitting little sighs and moans into Elim’s mouth. When Elim drew back, Julian lifted his head, desperate not to end the kiss, moaning in protest when Elim broke away. “But if you want it that badly, I’ll indulge you.” Adeptly Elim crossed Julian’s slender wrists so he could hold them both firmly to the bed with one hand. With the other he tugged his robe tie open. He shimmied out of the left sleeve and then, deftly changing hands, the right.

“Now you’re naked and I’m not. That’s hardly fair.”

“What’s hardly fair is you with someone else’s _sotl_ in your _vrikar’l_. You’re mine, Julian, and after I’m finished with you you won’t even want to think about anyone else.”

“Prove it. I can’t wait.” Julian’s brown eyes seethed with defiance.

“I know you can’t, you little trollop.” Elim released Julian’s hands and shifted his own body down so he was resting on Julian’s hips. A shiny trail of Cardassian lubricant wended down the brown skin. Twisting a little and reaching behind himself, Elim grasped Julian’s hard cock and pulled it out of the briefs. The smooth shaft felt wonderfully warm on his palm and and he gave it a couple of strokes.

Julian gasped and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Oh, yes, Elim. Don’t stop!”

Elim stopped. He turned back and placed both hands firmly on Julian’s chest.

“Do you see how wanton you are? I could finish you in five minutes and I haven’t even everted yet.”

Julian’s deft hands immediately found their way to Elim’s most sensitive shoulder scales and began rubbing and gently pinching. This time it was Elim gasping. Julian moved to the larger, harder ones on the neck.

“How’s that?”

“Only a natural slut would be so skilled,” Elim panted. His _ajan_ had parted a little more, the lips glistening. 

“ _Natural_ slut? Excuse me, I got this good from years of practice.” Julian lightly caressed the teardrop-shaped scale over Elim’s slit with his fingernail. That was all it took. Elim gasped, his breath stopped for a beat, and his genital lips parted fully to release his _sotl_ , wet, erect and quivering. He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

And blinked, shocked to find he had been unceremoniously tumbled onto the mattress during his moment of vulnerability. Julian had rolled out from under him and was already nimbly whisking his black briefs down his long legs, leaving his cock free to bob insolently.

“How do you want me?” he asked coyly, encircling Elim’s waist with his legs.

“Julian! You bold boy.” Elim grabbed Julian viciously by the shoulders and drove him back into the mattress. Julian clamped his legs tighter around Elim’s waist and pulled him down so they were nose to nose, warm human and cooler Cardassian breath intermingling, Julian's hard human _sotl_ pressing insistently and impertinently between them.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Julian wriggled so that Elim’s _sotl_ nudged against his anus, slicking the cleft with Elim’s viscous liquid.

“I shouldn’t, just to punish you,” Elim growled, but his hand had drifted down and the tip of his finger was already prodding into Julian's relaxed opening. Elim pushed himself upright onto his haunches and coated his finger thoroughly with his own fluid. “You want it so badly,” he cooed, slipping steadily in, joint by joint. “You’re opening for me already, you little tart.” Just slightly, he crooked his finger inside Julian’s depths, and the sharp inhalation it elicited told him he’d hit exactly the desired spot. He wiggled his finger again. Julian nearly jumped.

“ _Please_ , Elim. I am a tart. If you don’t fuck me, I’ll be _very_ unsatisfied. Who knows what I’ll do on my stag if you leave me like this?” Julian pouted and ran his fist up and down his own shaft.

Elim withdrew his finger from Julian and lifted an eye ridge.

“Tart indeed. Put your hand away if you want anything more from me.”

Julian raised both hands above his head in mock surrender and tilted his head coquettishly.

“So you _will_ fuck me?”

“You’re lucky I’m here, to save you from yourself.” Elim raised himself on his knees and with one hand guided the head of his _sotl_ into Julian, whose legs were still loosely twined around his waist. Julian exhaled raggedly and closed his eyes as Elim slowly slid in. A delicious shudder ran through him as the hot pressure of Julian’s body enclosed his _sotl._

“Oh, yes, Elim,” Julian moaned, locking his ankles together to press Elim in further.

“Julian. Remember this when you’re away with your friends,” Elim murmured, and began to rock his hips. Julian moaned again.

“As if...I would...forget.”

“Your attempts to speak during lovemaking are admirable, dear.” Elim thrust suddenly, eliciting an extremely pleasing noise from Julian. “But a slutty little human like you shouldn’t try to keep up to Cardassian standards of conversation.” He adjusted his grip and propped Julian’s feet on his shoulders, which offered him better access to Julian’s prostate. His first plunge made Julian shout and writhe. “You see? How can you deny me the pleasure of seeing you like this?” Julian’s fingers clung at the sheets as Elim watched himself drive in and out. 

Julian’s breath came in short bursts. 

“Ah...yes...Elim...”

That this magnificent, rangy body responded to every little poke and thrust Elim subjected it to heightened his excitement almost intolerably, to the point where he was on the verge of losing control. But it wasn’t time for that yet. Mentally he gathered himself, distracted himself with words.

“Correct, Julian. Keep my name on your lips.”

“Can...I touch...my...self?”

“That depends. Who will you be thinking about?” He ground in hard.

“Ah...ah...you!”

“But how can I be sure of that, with a trollop like you?”

“Ahh...I promise!” Julian opened his eyes to implore.

“Not enough.”

“Elim...”

“Like that, Julian. Say my name.” Another solid thrust. Julian’s eyes closed again and he arched his back.

“Elim...ah....Elim, please!”

“You may.”

Biting his lower lip, Julian gripped his cock and began vigorously, determinedly pleasuring himself.

“Julian, I’ll stop,” Elim warned.

“Elim...no, don’t stop...Elim...”

“That’s better.”

“Oh, Elim, I’m close,” Julian moaned.

“Of course you are, dear. Didn’t I tell you…”

The sentence remained delightfully unfinished. Julian’s feet clenched, heels digging into Elim’s shoulders. His body curled and shuddered as he vocalised from the back of his throat. The wild tilt of his exquisite human neck and the pearly surge trickling down his delicate surgeon’s fingers finally broke Elim’s restraint and he lunged into Julian, crashing, filling him, blood roaring in his head as, after a few compulsive plunges, he convulsed and howled in release. Finally spent, sinking to his haunches, he melted. Julian’s legs dropped limply from Elim’s shoulders to the mattress and the human’s slender arms coaxed him forward to collapse onto his unadorned, alien chest.

***

It was a cool night. Elim had enfolded Julian from behind, absorbing his body heat.

“Elim, do you actually know what a stripper does?” Julian absent-mindedly traced the scales on Elim’s forearm.

“Of course, dear. That profession does exist on Cardassia,” said Elim into the back of Julian’s neck.

“Does it? I’ve never seen one.”

“I imagine that’s because you’ve never been to a _fexval_ ceremony.”

“No, I don't think I have. What’s that?”

“It’s a sort of a party a man has with his closest friends before he gets married. A farewell to bachelorhood, if you will.”

The caresses stopped for the briefest of moments, but then resumed as if nothing had happened.

“Oh? And what else does this party involve?”

“Usually copious amounts of _kanar_.”

“It sounds like something we have on Earth.”

“Yes, I think I recall hearing about a similar tradition practiced by your people. There is one striking difference, though.”

“What?”

“Why a cake, Julian?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think Garak actually prefers sex that is gauzy lighting, tenderness, and flower petals strewn on the bed. But Julian likes to be dominated sometimes, so he's happy to oblige. 
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism, tips and tricks more than welcome any time!


End file.
